Rutabaga
by Mylaea
Summary: *Chapter 2 is uploaded* Hermione's in her seventh year at Hogwarts, and Voldemort is vanquished, leaving one of the teachers wounded in the struggle. Hermione is then chosen to take care of Professor Snape. Can she handle him- or can he handle her?
1. Prologue

Guess who's typing this on her newly bought laptop! Notice I said newly bought, not brand-new. It's about 20 pounds and can't do much... it has Windows 3.11 on here! I got it from my friend Tim for $20, which is cheaper than the ones on E-Bay and I know this one will work. If you're reading this, then you've probably read Broccoli, and like my work or just like flaming me. Either one is flattering. This story is called "Rutabaga"- I seem to have a vegetable theme going on here. This chapter is written mainly in Hermione's point of view. Anyway, on with the story!  
  
Disclaimer: I scream, you scream, we all scream for Harry Potter but unfortunately J.K. Rowling owns it.  
  
"The best part about being a singer is that you get to go to lots of overseas places, like Canada." - Brittney Spears  
  
  
  
Hermione sighed and looked toward the front of the Great Hall. Yet another Sorting, but this would be the last one she'd witness. It was her seventh and final year at Hogwarts. She had been made Head Girl much to McGonagall's delight. She clapped automatically as "Nooren, Marilyn" was sorted into Gryffindor. Her attention was suddenly called to the fact that Malfoy, among other male students, was staring at her. She turned to Harry, on her left and Ron, who was across from Harry.  
  
"Why are people looking at me?" she asked nervously. Harry and Ron stopped gazing longingly down at their empty plates and looked up at her.  
  
"Well, your hair's smoother," Harry said.  
  
"Yeah, softer and shinier. And you've gotten taller," Ron added.  
  
"More defined features..."  
  
"Longer eyelashes..."  
  
"Fuller lips..."  
  
"Fuller hips!"  
  
"Definitely bigger -"  
  
"Enough! Goodness, cut that out, you two," she interrupted before they could go on, "I'm still the brainy know-it-all, remember?" They shrugged and turned back to their still empty plates. The Sorting was still going on. Hermione scowled. She didn't want guys ogling her. And besides, she wasn't strikingly gorgeous or anything like that. You just don't change overnight- Harry and Ron were probably just making all that up. The Sorting finished with "Zander, Brandy" who was put in Slytherin. The food appeared on their plates after Dumbledore gave a short speech. Harry and Ron started shoveling it in, but Hermione didn't feel very hungry. She looked up at the staff table. It was the same as every year- McGongall and Dumbledore deep in conversation, Flitwick shoveling his food in at a rate to rival Harry and Ron's, Sprout looking around with cheery interest at the new students, and Snape-  
  
Snape had his usual sneer in place. He wasn't eating at all, he looked paler than usual, and his eyes were sunken in. He reminded Hermione of Sirius when he was still presumed guilty- he had gotten off in her fifth year when Wormtail had been captured- over her fourth year summer, Arthur Weasley had been appointed Minister of Magic, much to Lucious Malfoy's rage. She figured the reason why Snape was looking so sickly is because Voldemort had been getting stronger- and Snape was still masquerading as a spy for Voldemort, meaning he most likely received a dose of the Cruciatus curse every time he did something "good" for Voldemort.  
  
He suddenly looked up straight into her eyes. Snape had no expression, really, except for a subtle shadow of sadness. They held each other's gaze, both studying the other. Then, they both looked away simultaneously. Hermione turned back to her food, vaguely realizing she was almost shaky inside. She shrugged it off and tried to concentrate on the joke that Seamus was telling.  
  
Snape frowned down at his food. He supposed he was experiencing some new side effects of the Cruciatus curse. He felt strange. No matter. He wondered why Hermione had been studying him, though. He knew she knew he was pretending to be a spy for Voldemort, but other than that, there was no reason to waste time and thoughts on him. She had really changed physically. He hoped she hadn't become arrogant from her appointment to Head Girl. Suddenly, a chicken leg flew through the air toward the Slytherin table. Some Gryffindor first years were trying to look innocent while cracking up. He scowled at all of the new first years, stood up, and left the Great Hall. He really didn't feel like eating.  
  
"So, Hermione, when are you going to get to the library?" Ron teased. Hermione, Harry, and him were all sitting in the common room, feeling sleepy and comfortably full. Hermione smiled sweetly. "Actually, Ron, I'm going to the library first thing tomorrow morning. I'm looking up some things for Potions."  
  
Ron balked a little. "Potions? Already? We haven't even had the class yet! Why potions? Man, I hate that git Snape," he said, changing thought tracks faster than a starfish in the jungle.  
  
Hermione stood up and stretched, yawning a little while saying, "Snape's not that bad. I think I might want to be a potion researcher or maybe a potions professor after I graduate, so I'd better get working on it now. Goodnight, guys, I'm going to bed. See you both tomorrow morning."  
  
Harry and Ron watched her walk out of the common room and up the staircase to her private room reserved for her, the Head Girl. Harry turned to Ron and said solemnly, "Ron. You and I both know Hermione's gone through some changes this year, and so some guys may try to take advantage of her. We need to look out for her, okay?"  
  
Ron nodded and added, "I've always thought of her as a little sister. I have some sort of strange intuition about her, and I think this year she'll really find someone she likes. No matter who he is, we have to accept him, okay?"  
  
Harry grinned. "Whatever you say, Professor Trelawney."  
  
Hermione was falling, falling and falling and falling, with no indication of stopping or slowing down. All around her was a white foggy mist, from which undefined, blurry shapes would emerge and maliciously whisper a few things before retreating back into the mist.  
  
"You're an insufferable know-it-all."  
  
"A stinking mudblood."  
  
"...married to your books. Don't you have any interest in dating at all?  
  
"I see no difference."  
  
1.1  
  
1.2 Hermione jerked awake. What an awful dream! She couldn't really remember anything about it, just hat there were bad feelings in there- hurt and confusion, and even some anger. She shook her head to clear her thoughts and climbed out of bed, hitting the button on her alarm clock to turn it off before it went off in four minutes. She quickly pulled on her school robes and quickly walked to the library. Madam Pince was just unlocking the doors when Hermione came up. "I was wondering when you'd be here. Was your vacation fun?" Madam Pince asked Hermione kindly. She really was nice when you got to know her- and stayed quiet in the library.  
  
1.3 Hermione flashed back a smile. "It was terrific. And I think I know what I want to have a career in." Hermione had had many discussions with Madam Pince on what to do once she graduated. Hermione had made the decision over the summer- it wasn't really that hard. She had almost subconsciously known it ever since she had brewed her first potion. Madam Pince beamed and led Hermione into the library and to her desk.  
  
"Sit, dear, and tell me! Is it Transfiguration?"  
  
Hermione shook her head. "This shouldn't really come as a surprise. You know I've read every book relating to the subject in all of Hogwarts, except any ones the teachers might have."  
  
"Does that mean... you want to have a career in potions?" Madam Pince gasped excitedly, sounding a bit like Professor Flitwick. Hermione couldn't help but grin as she nodded. Madam Pince squealed and hugged Hermione. She then got up and disappeared into the back room with a wink. A moment later, she emerged, carrying a leather-bound book, the pages a bit yellowed.  
  
Madam Pince handed it to Hermione and said, "This was just donated yesterday. Good luck reading it." She let out a little laugh and started stamping some books with the Stampid charm. Hermione looked down at the worn book. The title was "Speculative Theories on Potions". It looked as if it could've come from the Restricted Section. Hermione's eyes widened- this sounded intriguing. She turned and dashed out of the library.  
  
"Hermione! Come on, it's dinnertime. Aren't you hungry? You didn't even eat lunch!" Ron and Harry stood in front of an armchair in the common room. Hermione had been reading all day, not even preparing to start classes tomorrow. She just shook her head, not even looking up from the book. Ron rolled his eyes and left for the Great Hall. Harry gave one last exasperated look at Hermione and set off after Ron.  
  
Hermione folded her legs up under her and held the book even closer to her nose. She had to fight a grin of delight. She had found another note! When she had first started to read the book, there were notes tucked between the pages in various places, obviously stuck there by whomever had read the book last. The notes checked the equations of the books, had a few random notes about the text, ideas on how to improve that potion if it could be made, and even new ideas for new potions! What had surprised her most though, was that the notes were in Professor Snape's handwriting. She really didn't mind him; she knew he had good reason to be bitter and angry- look at all he'd been through and is going through right now. She couldn't help but feel for him every time he lashed out. She respected his mind, whatever glimpses of it she could get in class.  
  
Sometimes (only rarely, she hated doing it), she'd make a mistake on purpose, so she'd get to see Snape's quick mind work out what was wrong and how to fix it. She thought she'd have had him one time, when she added food coloring to the potion, but no, he seemed to know that the potion itself was fine and that some sort of dye must have been added. She also knew he loved teaching, although she didn't exactly agree with his teaching style. She did agree with his expectations, though. Everyone, even Neville, could do well in the class if they just tried hard enough and stopped concentrating on hating or fearing Snape. She felt like her classmates hindered her learning, but every time someone made a mistake she could learn from their mistakes and see how Snape thought- it was all a matter of reading between the shouts and insults.  
  
The past few years she would stay after class sometimes and talk to him about potions, but there were rare occasions they would talk about lots of other things, too. They had a lot in common. You couldn't exactly call them friends, though. Just two people interested in each other's interests and thoughts. But these notes provided her more of a view into his thoughts than all of her previous six years at Hogwarts combined. She kept reading and reading long after everyone had come back from dinner and gone to bed.  
  
Snape sneered as his seventh year potions class (Gryffindors and Slytherins together again) came into his room. As usual, Parkinson was simpering over Malfoy while Potter and Weasley were glaring at Malfoy, Longbottom was trembling from head to foot, and Granger- Granger was being teased by some idiot Slytherin. "Lopez!" Snape called out.  
  
David Lopez stopped teasing Granger and he looked up at Snape. "Y-yes sir?" he managed to stammer.  
  
"I hope that you have been studying over the summer," Snape said in a cold voice (which wasn't entirely unfamiliar). David shook his head and Snape turned to Hermione.  
  
"Ah, Miss Granger, I suspect you have already learned the whole curriculum at your Muggle parent's house. Perhaps I should just let you teach." Hermione looked at the ground, quickly glanced up at Snape and back at the floor again, blushing. She had picked up on his hidden compliment.  
  
"I do want you to teach," she replied.  
  
1.4 "Give that here, Granger." Hermione looked at Snape confusedly. He was looking at the book she was carrying- didn't he recognize it? Or maybe he remembered his notes that he had left in there and would take them out. She couldn't stand the thought of missing out on the notes. She had to obey him, so she handed the book to him, although a little reluctantly.  
  
He took it without even looking at it and said, "See me after class." He turned and walked back to his desk. Harry and Ron mouthed furiously at him but didn't verbally say anything. Ron added a little more to the argument by making a charmingly rude gesture at Snape's back.  
  
After class, Hermione waited until the room had cleared before approaching his desk.  
  
"Yes, Granger? Something you want?" he asked wearily, not even mentioning the fact that he had asked to see her. Hermione's brows furrowed in concern. This definitely wasn't like him- he never forgot anything. Upon closer inspection, he looked extremely strained. Hermione made a sympathetic face. "Are you okay, Professor?"  
  
He looked up at her and she was taken aback by the look in his eyes. It was a mixture of pity, understanding, apprehension, and something else she couldn't place. The look was suddenly gone, as if he had jerked his feelings out of sight. He handed her the book. "I heard you talking to Madam Pince in the library yesterday. You will never be a potion researcher or professor. It's too late now. You wasted your time hanging around with Potter and Weasley, doing who knows what to keep them as friends. No matter how hard you try, you'll fail. Forget potions. I thought you were smart."  
  
Hermione stood in shock. After all these years of trying to earn recognition from him, it was useless. She had worked the hardest for his praise. She knew he didn't mean what he was saying- but why would he lash out at her? They'd gotten along relatively well since her fifth year... Hermione realized with a jolt that Snape was using this as an outlet for his anger and stress. He must know Voldemort has found him out or that the Aurors are planning an attack using him as bait, so he's doing this because he knows he's going to die. She felt herself choking up and so she turned toward the door, not facing him. If she looked at him she knew she'd break down.  
  
"I respect you, Professor Snape. I always have and I always will. You've always been my favorite teacher- and my best one. I will have a career in potions- no matter what. You're the bravest man I know. Good luck against Voldemort." Hermione left the room in a sort of daze. She felt numb right up until the moment she passed through the doorway. She couldn't hold it back and burst into tears, tears of anger at Voldemort wanting to destroy a brilliant life, tears of sadness for his willing sacrifice, tears of remorse for not telling him or showing him her respect until the most likely last few days of his life. 


	2. Fed Up

Hello again! I found this really neat website, http://www.neopets.com Check it out, and there's a Harry Potter guild that is awesome!  
  
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Harry Potter doesn't belong to me, but one day VSO Enterprises will! (don't ask)  
  
"...you're just reeking of feminine beauty..." -from Shrek  
  
Rutabaga Chapter 1- Fed up By: Mylaea Rawn  
  
~*~  
  
Hermione looked down at her eggs Benedict. "I see a sort of squashed flower in it," she said. "How about you, Seamus?" It was breakfast and the Gryffindor gang was taking turns trying to see pictures in their runny eggs.  
  
"I see... I see a Grim... and it's looking at Colin! You're going to die tragically and horribly!" Seamus exclaimed, falling over backwards in his seat laughing. Colin looked horrified. Dean took aim at Seamus with a slice of toast, threw it and missed spectacularly, the poor piece of toast landing somewhere at the Hufflepuff table.  
  
Hermione laughed, wondering if Harry and Ron were okay. Dumbledore had called them to his office yesterday and she hadn't seen them since. She knew it had something to do with Voldemort, but what?  
  
Everyone jumped as the doors to the Great Hall burst open. Minerva McGonagall stepped in, her robes muddy and blood-splattered, her wand out and a levitating stretcher behind her. The shape on the stretcher was barely distinguishable as a man. The disfigured form on the stretcher was Professor Snape!  
  
  
  
A few weeks later, Harry, Hermione, and Ron were at their desk in Potions, preparing ingredients for the substitute teacher. They had been told that Snape was "incapacitated" for the time being, and required live-in nurses to stay with him. He was very unhappy about this, and his classes could hear him yelling and throwing things at them. The nurses would inevitably get so frustrated with him that they would just quit. He had gone through 14 nurses in three weeks.  
  
Suddenly, a white blur streaked by screaming "I quit!"  
  
Ron and Harry high-fived and made another tally mark on the sheet of paper they were using to see how many nurses Snape had gone through. Looking at Hermione, they stopped laughing and dove under the table simultaneously. They recognized the look on Hermione's face and did not want to be within her range of eyesight.  
  
Hermione grit her teeth, slammed down her knife, and stormed to the back of the room. She crashed down a small hallway and tore open a plain wooden door. Professor Snape was sitting up in his bed, shirtless, the blankets over his legs and bandages wrapped around his abdomen. He looked at her in shock.  
  
"Professor Snape, you are behaving exactly as a spoiled child would who was told they couldn't have a piece of candy before dinner. I don't know why you have to have a live-in nurse, but you could at least treat them in a civil manner when they're trying to help you. They are grown adults, not students, so your pleasure in terrorizing them is inexcusable. Now stop wallowing in self-pity and let someone help you for once! Those nurses were too kind and gentle with you. If it were me, I wouldn't take any of your childish displays of temper. Now if you'll excuse me, I have class I have to get back to. You remember Potions? The class you used to teach!" And with that, Hermione turned on her heel and left the room, leaving Professor Snape in a very sour mood indeed.and still in shock.  
  
  
  
"Yes, Albus? You called me?" Minerva McGonagall stepped into Dumbledore's office. He had summoned her and requested that she hurry. Albus motioned for her to sit before speaking. "Now I know you've heard about Miss Granger's ... tirade at Severus this morning." He held up a hand as McGonagall tried to reason with him. "Normally, I would be upset at such a display of insubordination, but I think Miss Granger is exactly the thing Severus needs."  
  
"What? You think she should be his live-in nurse? Is that wise, sir? I mean, he isn't exactly her favorite teacher, or anyone's, for that matter."  
  
Dumbledore graciously ignored that needless stab at Snape and continued. "Yes, but you and I both know that she has had training in nursing and in physical therapy. Hermione will know how to deal with him, and I know she'll work wholeheartedly even if she doesn't particularly enjoy Severus' company. Her classes won't be an issue. As you know, she is only taking a few classes, seeing as she used her Time Turner again last year. Minerva, would you be so kind as to retrieve Hermione?"  
  
McGonagall nodded and left the room. Dumbledore sat back at his desk and absent-mindedly stroked Fawkes' feathers. He knew Hermione would be up to the job, but how would Snape take it?  
  
  
  
Snape sourly stared at the wall across from his bed. The only thing on his mind was the ticking of the clock, ticking, ticking, ticking the time up until she was supposed to come. He was furious at Voldemort for subjecting him to the Cruciatus curse for so long his spine snapped, furious at Dumbledore for insisting that someone live with him and take care of him like a helpless baby until he learned to walk again, and furious at the Granger girl for meddling in his affairs and yelling at him so rudely. And now she was the one who would be taking care of him! If only he weren't so handicapped. He scowled down at his useless legs, hidden under the sheets.  
  
Hermione walked down the small hallway leading to Snape's quarters. In order to take care of him, she had to move into a room adjoining his. She had transfigured her things to be one-tenth the size so that they all fit easily into her schoolbag, which was slung over her shoulder. Harry and Ron's reactions had been dramatic, to say the least. Her ears were still ringing as she opened the door to Snape's room. Her first impression was of something small and red whizzing towards her. Her hand instinctively reached up and caught it. She looked at it and realized it was a green and silver glass paperweight - Caithness glass.quite valuable. She saw Snape smirking insolently at her. She grinned and chucked it right back at him. His hand came up and caught it effortlessly. He set it back down on the table and turned away from her.  
  
Hermione looked around the room. Snape was sitting upright in a beautiful mahogany four-poster bed. The room was filled with floor to ceiling bookcases, positively overflowing with books of all shapes and sizes. There was a large mahogany desk on the other side of the room from the bed. Next to it, a door with a simple brass handle opened into a smaller room. Hermione could see a bed from where she was standing. She looked again at Snape, who was moodily looking away from her.  
  
"Well, Professor Snape, I'm going to unpack. Is there anything you need?" She waited. He didn't even bat an eyelash. So he's giving me the silent treatment, eh? she thought amusedly. She didn't have any real siblings, but her mother had always taken in abused kids, neglected kids, or kids who she wanted to keep off the street. Her house was constantly full of people, and she knew how to deal with everything- including temper tantrums and the silent treatment.  
  
"As long as you don't need anything..." she called as she waltzed into her room. She left the door open and threw her bag on her bed.  
  
Snape scowled. She didn't even try to get an answer out of him. He was certain he could keep this up until she quit. He heard sounds coming from her room, a few spells, sounds of clothing rustling, and drawers opening and closing. Wait, was she singing? He strained his ears. It was a Muggle song, with a simple tune.  
  
He was a lord of high degree and she was a lass from the low country and she loved his lordship so tenderly, oh sorrow, sing sorrow  
  
Now she sleeps in the valley where the wildflowers grow and no one knew she loved him but herself and God  
  
Snape sighed. Hermione's voice wasn't astoundingly beautiful, but it was clear and strong. Bored, he looked around the room for the book he had been reading. He saw it on the ground next to his bed. He remembered picking it up, preparing to throw it at that last nurse, and setting it down. He had always treated books with respect and care. He had thrown his bedside clock instead.  
  
He leaned over and reached for the book. He strained and his fingertips just brushed the cover. He grit his teeth in concentration, his arm stretching as far as it would go.  
  
"You do realize that if you fall I'm just going to laugh?" Hermione's smug tone cut through the room. He looked up at her, his hair falling over his eyes. He sneered and with one final lunge, he got the book. He settled back into the pillow and looked up at Hermione, only to find she wasn't there.  
  
Hermione placed the last folded shirt into the dresser. She took out again the note from Dumbledore that was on her bed.  
  
Miss Granger-  
  
Professor Snape needs six weeks to heal, and then you can start his physical therapy. His brace is in the closet for when you need to move him. Please notify Madam Pomfrey if you need anything. Thank you for your help.  
  
Albus Dumbledore  
  
Hermione grinned. Dumbledore always knew how to take charge of a situation. Glancing at her watch, she walked back into Snape's room. He wasn't even looking at the open book in his lap, his eyes staring angrily at his legs. Hermione cleared her throat, making him jump. "I'm going down to the kitchens to get us some dinner. What would you like?" Snape rolled his eyes and picked up his book.  
  
He waited until she had left before casting the book aside.  
  
  
  
Hermione listened as the pear giggled with glee and swung forward to admit her. She walked into the kitchens and was hugged so tight around the middle her stomach said hello to her backbone. Gasping, she peeled the house-elf off of her. "Good evening, Dobby. I trust you're getting along well?" Dobby nodded.  
  
"Yes, miss. I've missed you so very much! Winky has now found what she calls 'proper masters' but I still get to visit her on my day off." He puffed his chest out importantly before continuing. "I heard about Mister Snape's injury, and also about you taking care of him," he said, a frown crossing his face. Hermione smiled, although it was a bit strained.  
  
"Listen, Dobby, it's great to see you, but could I get two baked potatoes and some steamed carrots?" Dobby bowed delightedly and scurried off. She looked around the kitchen and was surprised when a small little girl house- elf tugged at her skirt. "It's vewy nice of you to take care of Mistewr Snape," she said bashfully. "When he would come down and cook he would always give me a piece of chocow... chocow... candy. Pwease tell him to get better." Hermione pat her hand and promised she would. Her eyes twinkled as she watched her run off.  
  
"Here is your food, miss," Dobby said, scaring Hermione. "Thank you, Dobby," she said, taking it from him, "and what's this about Professor Snape cooking?" He bobbed his head in delight. "Sometimes when he didn't want to eat in the Great Hall, he would come and cook his own meals. He was a good cook and he liked to-" Dobby cut off and ran to a nearby table, banging his head against it repeatedly. Hermione rushed over and pulled him away.  
  
"I have to go now, Dobby. I understand that you won't tell me whatever it is he liked to do. Thank you for your help. See you tomorrow morning, all right?" Dobby nodded and Hermione left, balancing the two plates and humming softly.  
  
  
  
Hermione stopped outside the room and levitated the plates so she could open the door. When she did, she barely moved fast enough to catch a vase that flew at her. She set it down and brought the plates into the room. Putting hers on the table, she placed Snape's plate on his lap. He just frowned at her. "What, you're not hungry? I know you must be." Snape rolled his eyes. "Don't you like it? You didn't tell me what you wanted, so I had to guess."  
  
Snape made a mocking face, his eyes narrowed and his lips set in a thin line. Hermione gasped theatrically. "Oh that's right, I forgot. Madam Pomfrey told me you were allergic to potatoes and that you hate carrots. Too bad this is what you get to eat until morning. The house-elves might think it a little rude of me to bring it back. I'm so sorry I didn't think of it before, but only if you would have reminded me..." she said sweetly  
  
She gasped as oven-hot potato was smeared all over her face. She stood up and promptly poured a pitcher of water on him that had been on the bedside table. Snape sputtered and gasped. "Maybe next time you won't be so rude as to not talk to me, hmm?" Hermione asked, her eyebrows raised and a twinkle of amusement in her eyes.  
  
Hermione could have sworn she heard Snape growl. She looked at the soaking wet bedsheets and muttered a spell to dry them instantaneously. His clothes, however, would shrink if the spell were used, so...  
  
"Professor, if you would remove your clothes so you can get into fresh pajamas, I'm sure you would be a lot more comfortable." Snape's eyes registered panic. Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh, please, it's not like I'm going to watch or anything. Besides, it's nothing I haven't seen before. When you stay at the Burrow you're bound to walk in on someone, or dare them to go streaking..."  
  
Hermione started to smile at the memory but then quickly shut up. She didn't want to reveal anything about her life or memories to Snape. Crossing over to the dresser, she pulled open the top drawer. It was just underwear and socks. The next drawer down held dark green flannel pajama bottoms. She tossed a pair to Snape over her shoulder.  
  
She waited until she heard him stop moving around to turn around. Snape's wet clothes were in a pile on the floor, and he was lying down with his back turned to her. Hermione bent to pick up the clothes. She wandered into the bathroom, which was beautiful with a white and forest green color motif. She hung the garments over the shower curtain rod to let them dry overnight. She pulled out her wand and summoned her toiletry bag to her.  
  
Snape rolled on his back and stared at the ceiling. He had heard whatever items she had summoned fly across the room. Hearing the shower going, Snape rolled his eyes. When did this girl go to sleep? Like you sleep much yourself, Severus, a voice said in the back of his mind. Snape smirked.  
  
He knew he could sleep easily now- the potion he had slipped to Voldemort did the trick. Unfortunately, Voldemort had discovered his treachery and decided to put him through pain before killing him. Before Voldemort could finish him off, the Aurors had come out of nowhere and attacked. Potter, of course, used the Avada Kedavra curse on Voldemort, but what Potter didn't know is that Voldemort had long been impervious to that curse. The potion's effects had taken over just in time for Potter to be a world-loved hero, while Snape sat in bed with disgustingly useless legs and a young lady he despised not fifteen feet from him. Wrapped up in his thoughts, he didn't notice when the water was turned off.  
  
Hermione walked by, her hair up in a dripping ponytail and a large green towel wrapped around her. Her face was fresh and clean, her bare feet making soft indentions in the carpet. Snape quickly shut his eyes, pretending to sleep. He heard Hermione cross over to him. He felt her cool hand on his cheek, and he smelled the refreshing scent of a spring breeze.  
  
"Goodnight. Maybe tomorrow you'll speak to me and make my job a lot easier. Sleep well, Severus." She said his name at barely a whisper. She moved her hand from his cheek and retreated into her room, the door making a soft click as she shut it.  
  
~*~  
  
I bought a tape of "25 Classical Favorites" at Wal-Mart for $1.96. Yay me!  
  
Review if you want to, don't if you don't feel like it. Raves will be raves and flames will be flames.  
  
Is anyone happy with the style that I write? I just feel like my syntax and diction usage are getting old. I am too critical of my writing, I know that. 


	3. Tap Dancing on the Ceiling

Has anybody noticed how many things ff.net has outlawed? No "10 reasons...", no "Ask", no MST's (which included stories that were PERMISSIBLE to be used), etc. And now no bloopers! Those are a form of fanfiction! Yes, this is a fanfiction site that I don't own or run, but still...  
  
In the writing of my fanfiction, I normally would research the topic I am writing about. I sincerely apologize to my readers and admit I did no research on the subject of paralysis or physical therapy (I will research that before I get to it). I know I have gotten many facts wrong, as some people were kind enough to point out. Even though this is only an Internet story and not a published work, I still have a code to uphold, even if I can only squeeze in ten minutes of writing a day. If you see anything suspicious (I just read over Chapter 1 and I can't believe I haven't been flamed more than I have), let's just say that yes, Madam Pomfrey was able to heal Snape's bones in his back and the nerve damage itself, but the effects of the nerve damage are still there (only the paralysis). Ah, the old blame it on magic. Again, please forgive me and thank you for your tolerance.  
  
You want a disclaimer? Coming right up! Harry Potter Inc. is affiliated with Jo Rowling, Warner Brothers and Scholastic.  
  
"What else would be in a birdcage besides a bird?" "A... a hamster." -TV's Funniest Game Shows, aired on FOX September 10, 2002.  
  
Rutabaga Chapter 2  
  
~*~ (If you normally skip my Author Note, please read the second paragraph.)  
  
"I am sixteen going on seventeen..."  
  
Snape grit his teeth. All he wanted was some peace and quiet so he could finish making instructions for the substitute Potions professor.  
  
"Fellas I meet may tell me I'm sweet..."  
  
Hermione was washing dishes, flicking her wand here and there, leaving everything spotless and sparkling. The singing was a habit she had. Since the first time she'd scrubbed a plate (before she knew about magic, of course) she would always sing whatever tune came into her head. The Sound of Music was one of her favorite movies. She always watched movies when she came home for the summer- she loved them.  
  
She knew perfectly well that this was annoying Snape, so she just sang louder. She grinned as she heard a frustrated groan come from the other room.  
  
Snape rolled his eyes as Hermione came back into the room. Looking at his numerous bookshelves, she asked, "May I read one of your books?"  
  
For a moment, Snape considered sneering and throwing out an insult about her bookish know-it-all-ism (his silent treatment was obviously not having the desired result), but she had filled the pitcher next to him with ice water this morning. He cast a fearful glance at the water pitcher, then waved his hand as if to give his royal approval.  
  
A few minutes later, Hermione put down the book she was reading and glanced at the clock. She walked to the other side of the room, rolling a wheelchair in front of her. Snape eyed it warily, reminiscent of a rabbit eyeing a possible trap.  
  
"It's bathtime, my dear Professor," Hermione said, enjoying the look of sheer horror that come over his normally expressionless face.  
  
"Well, you have to take a bath sometime, otherwise the smell would knock out the house-elves worse than asphodel mixed with an infusion of wormwood and then where would Hogwarts be?" Snape frowned at this, but pulled himself over to the side of the bed. He used his arms to hoist himself up over the side of the wheelchair, then managed to slide his limp legs into it.  
  
"Go on ahead to the bathroom and I'll get some clean clothes for you," Hermione told him. After gathering some clothes, she walked into the bathroom. Snape had already drawn the bath and was waiting for her to help him into the tub. Hermione set the clothes down on the countertop, then helped him pull his shirt over his shoulders. He was about to unbutton his pants, then hesitated.  
  
"Oh please," Hermione said in exasperation. "I told you before, it's nothing I haven't seen. Don't be such a baby."  
  
After helping him into the tub, Hermione went to the sink. She transfigured a small object from her bag to its normal size. Snape, trying not to look interested, glanced over at her. She was using some sort of Muggle contraption to straighten her hair.  
  
Hermione absent-mindedly pulled a lock of hair through the straightener. She used it once a week, preferring the Muggle method to the magic one- it seemed to work better. She had only needed to figure out a way to change it a little so that it ran on magic and not electricity, and voila, no more bushy hair.  
  
Hermione let out a yelp and realized the straightener had fallen on the inside of her forearm. She pulled it away quickly and noted ruefully that her skin was bubbling and burning. She set the straightener down on the countertop and performed a quick numbing spell. She couldn't do anything about the wound until she could get the burn salve from her room.  
  
Snape watched as she left the room calmly. He was impressed with her stoicism. He knew many- even Death Eaters- who would scream or writhe in pain just to make a big show out of it. Hermione had just set the device down and walked to her room. Even though her back was turned to him when she burned herself, he was able to see her arm clearly- and the skin burning. It was nasty burn, one that was sure to leave a scar unless treated quickly.  
  
Hermione was careful to keep her arm elevated above her heart to reduce swelling. With her other hand, she opened one of her chest drawers and found the burn salve. She took it back to the bathroom with her so she could keep an eye on Snape.  
  
Snape waited patiently for her to come back. He had already washed himself, but he couldn't wash his hair as he couldn't lean backwards or forward in order to immerse his head in the water. The water level was too low and, sitting down, he couldn't bend over that far. Hermione came back into the room, holding her burned arm above her shoulder to prevent swelling and carrying a jar of burn salve. She stood at the counter and maneuvered the jar so that she could open it with one hand.  
  
After applying the salve, she wrapped her arm in bandages to keep the salve from coming off. She turned to look at Snape. He was holding a shampoo bottle and he shook it a little, a hurry-up-and-get-over-here smile on his face. She groaned dramatically but walked over to him. She poured out a handful of shampoo and then slapped her hand on his head, splattering the shampoo all over his black hair.  
  
"There, all done!" She exclaimed a little too cheerily. He narrowed his eyes at her as a bit of shampoo dripped down and fell with a plop into the water below. "Come on," she said, "you can lather it yourself! Your arms still work. Don't give me that look! I'm here to take care of you, not cater to your every lazy whim."  
  
When she finished saying this, she heard the chamber door open.  
  
"Hello?" Professor Dumbledore's voice called out.  
  
"We're in here!" Hermione said, still glaring at Snape. Professor Dumbledore walked in the bathroom, assessed the situation, and beamed.  
  
"I see you two are getting along just fine," he said, his eyes twinkling. "And how do you like Hermione, Severus?"  
  
Snape grinned sarcastically and said, "Albus, she is wonderful. In fact, she was just about to wash my hair for me- she is quite obedient and helps me do everything."  
  
So NOW he talks, Hermione thought.  
  
Dumbledore smiled. "I was just checking up on you. By all means, don't let me interrupt you." He motioned towards Snape's non-lathered hair.  
  
Hermione smiled, looking happy, but the twitch in her left eye was a giveaway to the inner rage she was feeling. She went over to Snape and began running her fingers through his hair, making a nice foamy lather. Dumbledore nodded his head and left, that damned twinkle in his eye again. As soon as he was gone, Hermione's once-gentle massaging turned into sharp jerks and pulls. Snape grimaced and waited until she was done.  
  
Sitting up in his bed, a now-dry Snape tried not to stare as Hermione did a few exercises in the room.  
  
Hermione pulled her leg up to be parallel with her and smiled inwardly, a not-so-innocent smile. She had to get Snape back for that episode with Dumbledore, and had thought of the perfect thing. She knew that although Snape would never harbor any emotional attraction towards her, he was a male, and males... well, they had a physical reaction no matter who the girl was. She tried to ignore the little twang in her heart when she thought about the fact that Snape would never care for her emotionally, and went on with her plan.  
  
She had gone into her room after getting him settled into his bed. She changed into a Muggle sports bra and some exercise shorts. She went into Snape's room, where there was much more open space. She started out with some stretches, then began a few ballet routines. She had taken dance classes for many years before she came to Hogwarts, including ballet, tap, swing, and her favorite, the tango. She still practiced them, but she wished there were someone here that knew how to dance the tango with her. premonition?  
  
Snape had been afraid at first, when finding out that he was paralyzed, that he was also handicapped somewhere else. But seeing Hermione bend down wearing a revealing piece of clothing answered his question. He shifted uncomfortably, grateful for the blankets that were always covering his bottom half. How could this damned girl do this to him? He had been to countless Dark Revels where there had been naked women galore- all trying to seduce him while they were under the Imperious curse or under the effects of some potion; he hadn't experienced so much as a quickened heartbeat around them.  
  
So why was she having such an effect on him? Sure, she had a nice body, but Voldemort always had to have the best at his Dark Revels. As he pondered over this, his mind purposely neglected the possibility that it could be anything remotely close to physical attraction. After all, this was Hermione Granger.  
  
  
  
Hermione stood in front of Snape. He had a look of terrified horror in his eyes, and he was backing away from her in terror. She advanced on him, holding out a spoon. A dark purple liquid quivered a little as it tried to enter Snape's mouth. Snape squeezed his lips together tightly, refusing to take it.  
  
"Come on, Snape. You have to take this medicine! You're susceptible to infection right now, with all this inactivity. It doesn't taste bad, it's grape-flavored, it's not the icky cherry."  
  
Snape turned his head. Hermione waved the spoon back and forth.  
  
"Open up for the airplane! Here it comes! Vbrooo-..." She stopped, more than a little embarrassed. She was used to using childish maneuvers to give medicine to the kids at her house, and he was acting like a child. Snape gave her a funny look, but still kept his mouth squeezed tightly shut. Hermione knew she had to do something to make him take it. She thought for a few moments.  
  
"Snape, doesn't a Coniferous Potion require 3 lacewings and a few cups of chopped boomslang skin?"  
  
Snape opened his mouth to correct her on this atrocious misinformation. As soon as his lips parted, Hermione shoved the spoon in his mouth. She tipped the potion in and withdrew the spoon. Snape glared at her.  
  
"Well, aren't you going to swal-" The thick purple medicine slid down the front of Hermione's robes, mixed in with a little of that special Snape saliva. She looked down at herself and smiled.  
  
"I must say that this is quite the fashion statement. I mean, purple, who doesn't love it? I just look simply lovely in my new purple robes." Hermione stopped her spout of sarcasm as Snape put his hand to her cheek. He moved one of his fingers to her lips to shush her. Hermione's heart beat wildly. Snape leaned his head forward and brushed his lips against hers- not a true kiss, but a whisper of one. Hermione felt something move inside her, like a boulder being pushed off a cliff.  
  
Snape was just pressing his lips a little harder against hers when there was a knock at the door.  
  
Damn.I bet it's Sirius Black  
  
~*~ Cliffhangers are SO fun, aren't they?  
  
Please, I need help with ideas! What are some fun tricks and things they can do to each other? The water pitcher thing is an example, if you don't know what I'm talking about. 


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